


The Recombination of One's Soul and the Psychological Aftereffects: a Case Study

by Rumpels



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, Dark, Horror, Humor, Other, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 20:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6486505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumpels/pseuds/Rumpels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At any rate, dear Tom was successful at recombining the remnants of his soul. The manner in which to do this is to repent for his cruelty and heinous acts via feeling true remorse.</p>
<p>Alas, Tom Riddle did not appear to have a shred of humanity left in him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Recombination of One's Soul and the Psychological Aftereffects: a Case Study

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Written for Josette Phoenix’s Solve the Riddle Challenge.
> 
> Prompt: “Write a story about the aftermath of The Battle of Hogwarts for Tom Riddle if he had surrendered, and if he had cured himself of his Horcruxes. What happens to him afterward?” -Josette_Phoenix on her Solve the Riddle Challenge

The process of reuniting and recombining one's soul is a tedious, careful one. Before I explain this, however, perhaps we should first take a look at the system in which a soul is divided in the first place.

Just take a look at these excerpts from my article, “Horcruxes: Soul Division for Life Extension and Technical Immortality.” It is really really quite good and its publication has been highly accredited. It is now recognized for reference in the Ministry's informational center. 

...The primary purpose for the creation of said Horcruxes is the extension of one's life by means of soul preservation for unnatural and malevolent means (see death definition: the cessation of life functions and departure of once's life force, pseudonym soul)...

...main reason this process has been classified as Dark Magic is due to the horrific manner in which Horcruxes are created. First, it is important for one to detach pieces of the soul from the whole. There is only one method known to shatter the soul: murder. There must be a relic chosen which will function as a shelter for the pieces. Then the relic may be infused with the soul shard...

Yes, I know, it is quite exceptional research, isn't it? It is almost too bad that the Ministry officials have limited the papers to restricted access only. I, of course, received more than adequate payment for my work. Oh, yes, that brings us back to our main discussion: the reunion of one's soul to ones body. Might I mention that the publication on my research into the aftereffects of this process is guaranteed to bring me substantial wealth as well?

Hm, where to begin?

I suppose I should credit the person whose made all of this research possible. The former Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle, Patient 9 as he is known to you as, or whatever other alias he has been known as, is going to be a particularly fascinating subject to study. You see, he created seven Horcruxes, pushing his soul to the very limit. After some masterful convincing of one World Renowned hero, a Mr. Harry Potter, Tom (as he likes to be called in accordance to his files) decided that he was going to “turn over a new leaf,” so to speak. Unfortunately Potter and his band of merry semi-heroes had already destroyed a significant number of soul fragments.

At any rate, dear Tom was successful at recombining the remnants of his soul. The manner in which to do this is to repent for his cruelty and heinous acts via feeling true remorse. I realize that it sounds simple, and please keep up with me here as we are in a hurry. No time to dilly-dally, dear. For Merlin's sake don't trip over the patients! Where was I? Oh yes, remorse is a true act of humanity. Alas, Tom Riddle did not appear to have a shred of humanity left in him.

According to his case files, Tom was subjected to some very extensive therapy sessions as well as some unusually high levels of medication. You should know all of this, if you had simply read the files I forwarded to you. This is why I hate training, dear. You lot are always so...frustrating. Right, so Tom was successful to a certain extent. It seemed to have a very strong effect concerning his mental health, which is why he is here with us now.

You see, I was unable to make contact with him until now. He was “outside my jurisdiction.” Stupid technicalities! I am telling you, if I had a knut for every time a technicality swiped a patient from underneath my lavishly-clad feet I wouldn't need to be doing this study in the first place, would I?

And let me tell you, those psychologists that say that they are in this business to “help people” are only fooling themselves. Can you honestly tell me that you think that there is any help for people like Tom? No, of course there isn't, you silly girl! These people are only useful to you to squeeze every bit of information out of them until you can concoct a psychoanalysis that proves publication-worthy. That is the only way to survive around here, it is a crup-eat-crup world, after all!

How lucky you are to be shadowing me, dear. I think you could really learn a thing or two....

Ah, here we are! Omph!

...clumsy girl.... Pick yourself up of the floor dear, that is not very professional. And do try not to collide with me. I don't appreciate being touched.

Okay, very good. Now you can go in this room where you can observe the sessions. That window there is magically designed to appear as a wall on the other side. You'll be able to see in, but patient 9 won't be able to see you.

We have made some progress with the patient, but we are still in the early stages of the sessions. So, sit tight, and enjoy. I would suggest taking notes on my techniques, they may help you later on in the field.

Ready?

~*~

Session 0012

“Doctor Foster!” Tom exclaims from the other side of the table as I enter the room.

I laugh lightly and take my seat. “Tom,” I return. “It's nice to see you again.”

He waves his hand dismissively and grins. “Call me, Tom, I insist.”

 

Yes, I realize that I have called him Tom, but he feels the need to control the direction of the majority of discussions. For my benefit, I let him.

“Of course,” I say idly, shuffling through my briefcase for my notes and quick-quotes quill. “And you may call me Sofia, Tom.”

“May I call you Maggie?” he asked.

I nod. “Of course, Tom.”

We go through this exchange every time we meet. It is a major factor in his personality, I believe. The need for control. Can you see the way I am allowing him to believe that he is in control, that he has the upper hand? I hope you are paying attention in there.

I clear my throat as my quill poises itself above the parchment, eagerly awaiting to take notes. “Tom, I hear there was some disturbance in the rec-room yesterday.”

He watches me from the slits in his face, eyes dancing with humor. He does not answer me, so I naturally press further.

“You know, they almost didn't let me see you today because of it,” I say, critically. I know Tom benefits from our sessions. I know he doesn't want them to end.

At this, he frowns at me. “Potter was here again, disguised as a Medi-Witch.”

“Was he now?” I ask, trying my best to hide my disinterest. Tom has this theory that Harry Potter has been sneaking into the institution to mock Tom's defeat. So far, Potter has supposedly disguised as a guard, a chair, several other patients, last week's blood pudding, and now a Medi-Witch. One of these days I am expecting to be subject to the suspicion of being Potter, myself.

“Yes,” he growls. “Insolent brat was trying to thwart my plans...again!”

“Mmm,” I hum, hoping my tone is coming across as understanding. “So your attempt at tearing the Medi-Witches face off was-”

“My attempt at revealing Potter in his true form, I assure you Maggie!” he says as he places a hand over the two of mine, clasped together in front of me. “And I would have been successful if not for those infuriating guards!” He releases me and turns pointedly to look at the magicked wall, to glare at the guards that are in the room there with you.

Clever Tom. We can't get much past him here.

“Tom,” I say as gentle as possible, regaining his attention. “Your files been turned from dangerous to critical. You're in the red Tom, so to speak. They are taking away virtually all of your privileges, Tom. They are even considering ending our sessions here.”

“But you won't let that happen will you, Maggie?” His voice is slightly desperate and nervous. 

I haven't quite cracked the code in figuring out why he enjoys spending this much time with me. Perhaps he's taking a liking to me. Maybe he believes that I can assist him with his plans. But these are ponderings and reflections meant for outside of the sessions.

“Well, Tom, I am going to try to continue. But you have to work with me a bit here.” I stop to observe his frown. When I am sure he will not respond yet, I continue. “That means no more attacking Harry Potter, no matter what form he takes. Your continued violence is going to land you in complete isolation.” His frown deepens. “Away from me, as well,” I add for good measure.

He sighs. “Maggie....”

I decide it is high time to move on. Else, there will be little room for revelations in this session.

“So, Tom, where are your friends today?”

Tom has an army of colored paper circles, about the size of an extended hand, that he has been collecting since his arrival here. This factor I am very confused over. I assume they are to represent his need for power and influence among others. Since he no longer has an army of Death Eaters to do his bidding, he's created a platoon out of inanimate objects. Furthermore, he has learned to communicate telepathically with them and generally has to translate their words to me. Typically he has them arranged on the table between us during our sessions in a colorful display of his power.

He leans across the table so that he is inches away from my face. “They are trying to take them away from me, Maggie,” he whispers harshly. “It is all Potter's doing! He fears my revival!” He moves back to his seated position, watching me intensely.

I nod. “I see. Are they in your room, Tom? Aren't you concerned that they will be taken-”

“-Do you fancy me a fool, Maggie?” he asks me, laughing. He lowers his voice to a whisper before continuing. “They are here with us!”

I humor him and glance around the room with exaggerated motions. 

He shakes his head and leans close again. “In my shirt!” he whispers, excited.

“Ah, I see,” I say, trying not to be patronizing. “Are you going to take them out for me today?”

He shakes his head, leaning away. “Not safe.”

“Okay,” I reconcile. “What would you like to talk about today, Tom? Maybe your childhood? I always love hearing stories about your time at Hogwarts.” 

Flattery, the best way to lead a conversation with a patient with Tom's superiority complex. Do take note of that, dear. I can't see you behind the wall, but I'm sure you're slacking off, as many of the interns do. I beseech you to pay attention.

Tom takes a minute to consider the request. “Where did we leave off last time, Maggie?”

“I think it was your fifth year, if I'm not mistaken.”

“Ah yes,” he says, amused. “That was a particularly fun year....”

~*~

So, what have you learned so far, dear?

No, no, not about the patient. You aren't advanced enough to be making analysis on the patient, yet! About my methods of approach!

You weren't paying any kind of attention, were you? 

Well, here, take these papers. File them in their respective places. Do you think you could handle it? It would exceed my expectations of you, but do strive for the best, they say.

Good. Perhaps you'll pick something up from the next session.

I've got much work to do concerning my paper, so try not to pester me. And a cup of coffee wouldn't hurt.

~*~

Session 0017

“So I've heard you have been earning some of your privileges back, haven't you Tom?” I say, hoping to open a window of conversation.

He appears frustrated today. He isn't paying attention to me. He isn't speaking to me. He's staring at the red paper circle before him. Oh yes, it didn't take Tom very long to feel comfortable bringing his army back to our sessions openly. They are, again, between us as we speak.

“Shut up!” he growls, banging his hands on the table. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

He isn't speaking to me, of course. Tom never speaks to me this way. He's talking to the red circle.

“What is it, Tom?”

He growls, bringing his hands to his face in agitation. “I can barely concentrate over Red's incessant blubbering!”

“Why is she crying?” I ask, softly. 

'Red' is a female paper circle. She has been having an affair with Purple. Tom does not approve of this, and they are constantly defying him. Tom wishes Red and Green to make a union instead, and would much rather see Purple with Yellow. It has taken me some time to accustom myself to the gender of each paper circle, as well as their personalities. I believe I've got it down now. But speaking of Purple....

I continue, “Where is Purple today, Tom?”

Tom cackles gleefully. “Dead! He has defied me for the last time!”

“I see,” I say, frowning. This was new. The papers were his friends. They were the source of his power. Then again, I suppose that killing one of them would signify a way of showing off his power over them. “I have a game-”

“-Enough!” Tom exclaims, snatching Red from the rest of the group. He crushes the paper in his fist before shoving it into his mouth. I wait patiently as he chews and swallows the paper. “Does anybody else have any problems?”

I give him a few more moments of silence before repeating myself. “I have a game for us to play today, Tom.”

He eyes me curiously. “I'm not sure if I enjoy games, Maggie.”

“Oh, but this one is fun, Tom. Won't you play with me?”

He sighs but nods. This is a dangerous path to be heading down, it seems as though I am beginning to waste his time.

“Unless you would prefer to talk more, of course,” I say, trying to level his boredom. “We don't have to play."

 

He watches me, thinking, considering, judging. “I will play, Maggie.” He offers me a smile, this is good. It is not a malicious smile, nor is it sarcastic. It is a genuine smile.

I return it and retrieve the papers from my briefcase.

“Okay, Tom. I have images on these pages and I'd like for you to try and guess what they are.” They are inkblots, but it is important that he does not realize that fact. He needs to assume that I've drawn them for his amusement. “Here's the first one.”

I watch his eyes swim across the moving blots on the paper and he suddenly grins widely. “That's me! Maggie, that's quite flattering.”

I smile and move on to the next picture.

His smile only widens. “Why...that's you and I. Are we...are we getting married?” he laughs. “Maggie, are you trying to ask me something?”

I continue, laughing at his antics behind the papers. I am not sure if he is serious or if he is just taking the piss.

He blinks several times at the next picture, his smile faltering. “Oh, I can only assume that this is our wedding night.... That's very...graphic.”

I feel my eyebrows raise, despite myself and I observe the picture. It looks like an owl to me.

I cough, removing the picture. “That one is not supposed to be in there,” I say unevenly.

Tom chuckles.

“What do you see here?” I ask, praying its nothing quite as scandalous.

“Maggie,” he breathes. “Our children! Oh! We made such a beautiful family!”

“How many children do we have?” I ask, looking at the picture. This one is definitely a tea kettle as it whistles its completion, complete with smoke billowing from the spout. 

“Three,” he says with an air of finality. “What are their names?”

I ignore his question and move on to the final picture. “What about here, Tom? What do you see?”

His grin widens, but falters into the realm of malevolence. This could not be good. “I see,” he says. “Of course, Maggie. I will figure out a way.”

I look at the picture, confused. “What do you see?” I press. What was he going on about?

He leans in close and whispers, “Not in front of them, Maggie.” I know that he's speaking about you and the guards behind the wall.

I lower my voice to his level. “Why don't you tell me, Tom? Just to make sure that we are on the same page.”

“Oh, we are on the same page, Maggie. Don't you worry.” 

Suddenly, his lips are pressed against mine, much to my surprise. I gasp, and try to pull back, but his hand his entangled in my hair, keeping my head in place. The parting of my lips was apparently a queue for him to slip his slimy tongue in my mouth.

I am thankful that the guards were quick to remove him from my person. I don't know if you've ever been kissed by a man who, in all respects, resembles a serpent. Let me assure you that it is not a very pleasant experience.

“I'll figure out a way, Maggie!” Tom calls as the guards drag him out of the door.

~*~

So, what do you see in this picture?

Yes, that's what I thought, too. It does resemble a pineapple, doesn't it? I wonder what he could have possibly seen in it.

But I am beginning to understand why he enjoys spending time with me, at any rate.

Can you believe that they want me to stop these sessions? This is pure gold...literally! Obsession at its finest!

No, I did not enjoy snogging him, you twit! He will not do anything that will risk losing the privilege of seeing me. I'll just tell him that he cannot show such a strong expression of affection in front of the guards.

What? Why are you looking me like that? It's not as if I ever see the patient outside of the guards presence.

It will be fine, really. Why are you so concerned about this, dear? No harm will come to me. His power only lays in his thick head. He has power over an army of paper dots. I assure you that everything will be fine! You worry too much.

What is with the interrogation anyway? I believed that I asked for coffee. Off with you.

~*~

Session 0023

“My plans are coming along, quickly Maggie,” he whispers excitedly, leaning in close.

I nod. “And are you going to fill me in on this plan, Tom?”

“Ask Blue,” Tom said urgently, motioning to the paper circle.

I sigh. “You know that I cannot hear them, Tom. I-”

“You would be able to hear them if you would only listen! You never listen!” Tom shouts, irate.

I blink at him calmly. He's never acted this way before towards me. This was not good. I offer him a soft smile and nod, gently picking up Blue and bringing him to my ear.

I wait a few moments as Tom watches me intently. Obviously the piece of paper is not going to tell me anything. But it is best to play along. “Oh!” I exclaim, causing Tom to smile. “Oh, I see!”

I lower Blue for a moment as Tom laughs.

“And how exactly are we going to do all of this?” I ask Tom, hoping he will give me an answer.

He merely gestures to Blue again.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes as I return Blue to my ear.

~*~

I got the letter late this evening.

It was urgent, from the Ministry. They needed me at the institution, immediately. 

They were convinced that I could talk Tom down. It seems as though he's stirring up some trouble. He overpowered the guards as they were taking him to his room. How two armed wizards were overpowered by a single unarmed man, I am at a loss. I can only assume it can all be attributed to by supreme stupidity. Nonetheless, Tom now has a wand and is wreaking havoc across the institution.

Apparently a team of Aurors, including Harry Potter, are already inside, attempting to put a stop to the situation at hand.

I don't see why they need my assistance. Aren't they trained to stop and kill murderers?

I walk slowly down the corridor, stepping over the fallen bodies of patients, guards, nurses, psychologists, and Aurors alike. For the first time, I fear the man with the army of colored paper circles. How has he managed to kill so many by himself? This is insane! Surely this can also be held at the fault of pure stupidity!

I use my wands' light to guide me, holding it out in front of me as the lights are not working. I can smell smoke, the building is burning.

I should not be in here. This is stupid.

And then I see your body lying among the others. I asked to, told you, to stay late this evening to reorganize the files as you messed them up, again. It doesn't surprise me to see you dead, now. Your capabilities were weak and flawed. You never stood a chance. But I suppose you blame me for your death, don't you? Because I asked you to stay late. Don't be so presumptuous, it is not becoming...even when you're dead. It's not my fault that you are incapable of defending yourself. I see by the way you are gripping the dead patient's gown next you that you were probably trying to help them. You should have listened to me. There is no helping these people!

So I step over your dead body without feeling any regret. You should have listened to me. If you had, perhaps you would still be alive.

It does not take me long to find Tom. The sound of his laughter carries down the corridors in a frightening, reverberating echo.

He's standing in the middle of the East Wing, not far from my office, where you should have been. It doesn't look like he's made it down that far, yet, as the crumbling walls, crackling beneath the flame's weight don't quite reach that far. Perhaps if you had just stayed there, you would still be alive.

“Tom?” I ask, timidly. I don't want to approach him, afraid that he's completely lost his mind.

He turns. As he spots me, his face lightens with a smile. He's holding his wand in one hand, but it is not pointed at me. On the opposite wrist he's attached a string, connecting all of his colored dots. They make a long line that trails on the floor behind him. He has an extensive army. I breifly wonder what would happen if they caught fire.

“Tom,” I continue, trying to keep my voice calm. I do not lower my wand. I don't trust him. “What are you doing?”

He is quick to close the gap between us, wrapping the arm that the circles are attached to around my waist.

I frown, my confidence wavering under his touch.

He kisses me, again and I struggle to escape his grasp. I think he takes my efforts as some sort of passion, as he only deepens the kiss.

Finally, he pulls back, smiling at me. “Isn't it wonderful, Maggie? Just as you wanted it!”

I shake my head, breathing erratically. I am terrified of this man. “But I didn't-”

He does not release his hold on my as his smile falters a bit. “Yes, yes, exactly as you drew, my love. We will destroy this world, together. And then we can always be together. We will marry...and start our family. I understood you perfectly! It was a genius way to communicate your love to me. The guards never suspected a thing!”

I am struggling to find words. I wonder what you would have said to him, had you been in my position. I'm sure you would have said something stupid to get yourself killed...again. I have to be careful, I cannot mess anything up here.

“Yes, it's perfect,” I say, attempting to keep my voice as even as possible. “We are free now. Free to leave.” 

I am desperate. I don't think that I can take him on by myself. He's is the sole cause of a mass slaughter. I need to disarm him, to lock him up. Further down the corridor are the solitary chambers. They would be perfect. Or, at the very least, maybe we would run into some Aurors who could help me.

He smiles at me and our lips meet again. This had to stop. I pull back and take his hand, leading him down the corridor as his colored dots trail along behind us.

We are pass a nurse who screams and attempts to avoid us. I know her. She works on this wing. Her name is Amelia. She's sweet.

“Avada Kedavra!”

The words leave his mouth before I can protest. My guess is that he would have done the same to you if you had been there instead of Amelia. I wish it had been you here instead of Amelia. She did not deserve to die. You just had to get yourself killed, didn't you? It is your fault that Amelia is dead now, you know that right? If you had been a useful trainee, you would have sacrificed yourself for her life. But what use are you now? None whatsoever. 

“She is of no use to us,” Tom says softly, noticing my gaze.

I nod and continue down the corridor with his hand in mine.

We reach the solitary ward and Tom stops. “There are no exits in this direction,” he tells me. I wonder how he knows that.

“I-I thought that we could gain a moment of privacy,” I manage.

He is eying me suspiciously, his wand now pointed at me. “There will be plenty of time for that when after we leave,” he assures. His voice is dangerous.

“I, uhm...but....” I'm losing my mojo. This is not good.

“What are you playing at, Maggie?” he demands.

I lower my eyes, watching my wand hanging useless in my hand. I have to do something quick. “My name is not Maggie, Tom.”

The hiss that erupts from his throat startles me and my eyes snap back to his face.

He is close to me, now. His wand is pressed against my chest. “Don't you love me, Maggie?” he asks.

My stomach churns, I feel as though I am going to be sick. Wasn't anybody going to save me? “I-I, uhm, of course I do, Tom....”

But I've faltered, and he knows that. He knows I've been lying, it's written across his face.

He looks enraged and leans in closely. “You have never loved me, have you Maggie?”

I close my eyes and breathe, I vaguely hear the sound of my wand hitting the stone floor. You see? This will be my downfall as well, just as is it was yours, stupidity. I should have done something. I should have done anything. But my body betrayed me. I froze. Did you freeze too? Did you drop your wand too?

This is very bad.

I keep my eyes closed, for I cannot seem to move. I am stuck in this spot, even as I feel Tom remove himself from me. 

“Look at me,” he demands.

I can barely breathe. How does he expect me to open my eyes when inhaling is impossible.

“Look at me!”

I do. I still can't breathe.

His wand is pointed at me.

“Tom,” I manage to say in a weak, pleading voice. But it is too late. He is too far gone. He is no longer Tom; he is the Dark Lord.

He smiles cruelly. I realize that this is the end. But did he look at you this way before he-


End file.
